The Battle Royale Program
by C.D. Call
Summary: In the year 2012, a class of 42 students were told that as a present for completing their senior year of high school, they were to be given a free weekend getaway at a local resort.  This is the story of what really happened that weekend.
1. The Happiest Days of Our Lives

"We just passed North Bend. Like less than a minute ago."

Phillip Conlee, a science teacher nearing his fiftieth birthday, talked into a cell phone. It wasn't an easy task on a moving train, with his signal going in and out constantly. This was the third attempt at making the call, and so far the most successful. The science teacher rubbed the back of his neck.

"Everything's fine. Yeah, the kids are just kind of keeping to their cabins. No, no the entire car is reserved, I shouldn't have to."

Conlee sighed. He looked out the window, watching the scenery go by. This stretch of the route didn't have much to look at, just an old train yard that led into a wooded part. It was a beautiful day though, without a cloud in sight. The teacher stopped enjoying the view and turned towards the door of his personal cabin.

"Yes I know their safety is of the utmost importance. I've been teaching for seventeen years, you know?" Conlee replied to the person on the phone. There was no point in arguing though. Not with this one, not if Conlee knew what was good for his career. "Okay, I'll do it. I can see if they're getting into trouble at least."

Without another word, Conlee looks at his phone and hits the end button. He raised his left leg a bit, leaning against the wall of the cabin for support while he bent his knee back and forth. This was the fourth year in a row he was taking the senior astronomy class on the camping trip, a staple at Ellenville High School. He was somewhat shocked upon learning that he would be the sole chaperone this year, but when he found out why it wasn't such a surprise. The kids were the ones who would be surprised, he thought to himself with a smile as he planted his foot on the ground and exited his cabin.

He could already hear the rap music booming from the back of the car, where the jocks and the cheerleaders congregated. Theirs were the only two doors open though. Conlee could see in the cabin across from him that Jessica Galvin and Joseph Washington were busy, talking close and occasionally kissing. He then let out a chuckle when he saw how uncomfortable it was making Hiroshi Misaki and Emily Trendell.

Mr. Conlee walked a few feet down the hall, to the door of the cabin that was connected to his. He took a quick look inside before opening it up. He gave the quartet of boys a quick smile.

"Everything alright in here guys?" Conlee asked.

On the left side of the room sat Daniel Talford and Jonathan Bonsall, both of whom were glued to their hand-held games to respond. Across from them were Steven Robson, who was off in a stare out the window, and Lawrence Kieffer, who was the only person kind enough to respond.

"Oh yeah, everything's great. Fantastic even. Aside from the fact that my so-called friends are across the hall from me, and I'm stuck here with a bunch of virgins," Lawrence quipped, looking up at his astronomy teacher with a fake smile, "everything's just peachy."

Conlee matched the smile with one of his own, it being just as disingenuous. The other boys in the car just ignored Lawrence's comments, which might have infuriated him even further.

"They're a lively bunch, huh teach?" Lawrence added.

"High school's almost over, Mr. Kieffer," Mr. Conlee said, starting to pull the door closed, "try not to give yourself an aneurysm."

With that, the teacher closed the door and shook his head. Lawrence was a smart kid, but his attitude was going to wind up causing his own demise. Although it must have been tough being cooped in there with people he never talked to, especially those three. Good kids, but a little to strange for the science teacher's liking. A few steps farther down and he found himself at the door of a completely different group of students. Upon glancing through the window of the cabin door, the science teacher took a double take and quickly opened the door.

"For God's sake Margaret, pull your shirt down." Mr. Conlee exclaimed, quieting his voice halfway through the sentence.

It was quite a scene in this cabin, Conlee thought to himself. Margaret Pasizt, who was busy pulling her blue halter top back into its proper position, and the giggling Karen Moseby, had the reputation of being the two girls in the class with the loosest morals, so to say. With some of the things he'd heard about them that was putting it nicely.

"Mr. Conlee, I'm sorry, but I saw the doubt in their eyes when I told them I had my nipples pierced." Margaret started in with a shrug, chewing her up in an exaggerated manner with her mouth wide open.

"Oh really?" Mr. Conlee replied, taking a look at the girls on the other side of the cabin. Down the line were Heather Somers, Tabitha Broeker and Kathleen Cowan, huddled together, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it was from the show that Margaret had given them, or the cramped seating arrangement, he wasn't sure. Possibly both, he thought. "And you just couldn't let it slide I suppose?"

"I don't like being called a liar, teach." Margaret replied, with a smile.

"She's called enough as it is." Karen added. Margaret responded with a jab to her friend's boob, which caused Karen to jump in surprise. "That was my tit, bitch!"

"How much longer until we're there?" Kathleen Cowan asked, her voice carrying an annoyed inflection.

"About an hour, maybe forty-five minutes. Hang in there." Mr. Conlee stated, closing the cabin door. "Oh, and no more flashing."

As he closed the door, he could hear Margaret tell him that he was no fun. The science teacher remembered a time when he was Phil Conlee, Van Halen's number one fan no matter what anyone else claimed. The band's logo was still tattooed on the back of his right shoulder, a fact he kept well hidden amongst his peers and students. It had been years since he'd been to a concert of any kind though, aside from those awful school assembly concerts that they made the entire high school attend. His thoughts were interrupted by a door almost smashing him in the face.

"Oh shh…" Linda Ramsey started, curbing her profanity when she saw that her teacher was standing there, "…I mean, sorry Mr. Conlee."

Mr. Conlee offered a smile. Linda was a good girl, a cheerleader, and genuinely nice and smart as well. "It's alright Linda. No harm, no foul. Was there anything you needed?"

"Just the restroom." Linda replied, offering a smile and starting past her teacher.

"How's it going in there?" Mr. Conlee asked.

Linda did a half turn, giving a shrug. "Going alright I guess. Nicole and I were just listening to some CDs. It's either that or have to listen to Fabio speak in horribly broken Italian to Brittany."

"Understood." Mr. Conlee remarked as Linda turned back and headed towards the bathroom. Conlee looked inside the window, seeing Fabio DeBello and Brittany Linton on one side, Fabio working his so-called magic and Brittany eating it up. On the other side was Jason Satterlee, sleeping against the wall of the cabin with Nicole Weeks seated next to him, listening to her mp3 player, nodding along to the music with her eyes closed. No need to disturb them, he thought to himself. Not when he wanted that music turned down at the end of the train car.

It wasn't just the music though. It was the obscenities that sometimes were even louder than the music itself. Conlee could tell the source of those obscenities by the voices, specifically the two that sometimes made his skin crawl. He never could stand kids who took the whole rap fad so seriously that they thought they had to talk like thugs. Conlee looked into the first room, seeing that they were both in there.

"Spencer, Panna…" Mr. Conlee started.

"P, yo!" Panna Phommatheth responded.

"P…" Mr. Conlee started with a sigh. In a relatively middle-class neighborhood, Panna Phommatheth, or P as he liked to be known by, came from one of the wealthier families. His grandfather owned over a couple dozen canneries in their native Thailand, as well as the United States and other countries. Panna liked to tell kids in his class that his family's money came from gang connections in Bangkok. "…if you could just keep the music down a little bit. You don't have to turn it off, just show some consideration.

"I didn't hear anybody else complaining, sir." Chris Olson replied, giving the teacher a smile. Mr. Conlee knew Chris' game all too well, and what kind of person he really was to know that his whole respect for authority was just a front.

Despite Chris' reply, Panna did turn down the volume on his laptop, although it was barely noticeable. The others in their cabin were Cesar Zamudio and Kevin Doherty, the football teams defensive stars at inside and outside linebacker respectively. Kevin was busy laughing at something he was watching on his phone to care about what was going on, and Cesar was in another world with his headphones on. Cesar was the type of kid that Mr. Conlee hated to see hanging out with someone like Chris Olson, but luckily for him school was almost over, and he was off to play Division I football at Washington State. If he survived this weekend, the teacher thought with a smirk.

"Thank you, Mr. Conlee!" A voice from the cabin across exclaimed. The teacher turned around to see Lisa Arcuri, sticking her head out with the usual bitchy expression on her face. "It's nice to see there's someone else who doesn't appreciate hearing Panna's music."

"Well damn, it looks like I forgot to bring my muzzle for this trip." Spencer retorted with a smirk.

Lisa gave Spencer the finger, even though he wasn't looking. Mr. Conlee stuck his head in Lisa's compartment to see her stuck with the two power couples. Michael Massena and Victor Lombardo, best friends and most popular guys in the class, and were dating Vanessa Grant and Melanie Chavez respectively. Conlee always found it strange that the two were such good friends, but were completely different. Massena's popularity was achieved not only through being athletic, but also because he was a genuinely good person, while Lombardo's was through being athletic, and using that to his advantage to intimidate. Even their girlfriends mirrored their personalities, as Melanie was known for being the queen bee, so to say. Vanessa just seemed to deal with it, more than likely because school was almost over. Mr. Conlee couldn't help but smile as he saw Mike and Vanessa, talking amongst themselves and laughing at private jokes.

"Everything alright in here?" Mr. Conlee inquired.

"How much longer I gotta listen to these bitches?" Victor looked from Lisa to his own girlfriend, who immediately smacked him on the shoulder. Victor raised his hand, which caused Melanie to flinch and Mike to grab his friend's wrist before Mr. Conlee could react.

"Chill out, Vic." Mike said.

Victor soon chuckled, wriggling his wrist free. The school's starting running back turned to his science teacher with a shrug. "I was just going to brush some hair from her beautiful brown eyes. Wasn't I, baby?" Victor asked, turning back to Melanie who forced a smile. Lisa rolled her eyes, as did Vanessa while Mike did his best to ignore it. There had been unconfirmed reports that Victor had hit Melanie before. Mr. Conlee believed it to be true. He shook his head, turning to leave.

"Try not to maim each other for another forty-five minutes please?" Mr. Conlee said over his shoulder, closing their door halfway.

Mr. Conlee was glad to get out of there, even if he could still hear the music and the chatter behind him. Hopefully he wouldn't have to see them for too much longer, he thought with a smirk. He still couldn't believe what the school had approved, but he was all for it. This would be the easiest chaperoning trip he'd ever been on, he thought to himself as he made his way back through the car, looking at the cabins on the opposite side. He knocked on the first door he came to, seeing Linda walk past him and giving a slight smile. Conlee turned his head and smiled back, hearing the door in front of him open. Turning back around, he was greeted by Erin Gerhardt.

"Hi, Mr. Conlee. What's up?" Erin asked.

"Not much, Erin. I was just going around, seeing if everyone was alright." Mr. Conlee replied.

"How much longer until we're there?" Lynn Siddique asked, which seemed to be the question of the moment.

"Another half hour to forty-five minutes." Mr. Conlee responded, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It wasn't Lynn's fault for asking, but he never liked answering the same question more than once. The only times he would ever raise his voice in class were when someone wasn't paying attention and asked an already answered question. He opened his eyes back up to them, offering a smile. "Not much longer at all."

He watched as Selina Ruiz dug through her bag, pulling out a small pull bottle and looking back up to her teacher. "Advil?"

"No, thanks." The teacher responded, briefly holding his hand up. "You shouldn't have that either, ya know? It's my job to carry that stuff." Mr. Conlee said.

"I get migraines." Selina retorted, handing the pill bottle over to her friend, Christina Shaw, who looked awful. Christina opened the bottle and dumped out a pill into her hand. Mr. Conlee didn't necessarily like his students taking anything, but he understood why Christina might need it.

"Another long night?" Mr. Conlee asked sympathetically.

Christina let out a sigh, followed by a nod as she closed her eyes, leaning her head against the wall. Christina had been putting up with her cousin Benjamin, who was no farther than a cabin away, and his drug addiction that got him kicked out of his own house, and was temporarily living with Christina and her parents. Ben had already been to rehab once, and with his relapse, his parents refused to pay for it again. So he was going cold turkey, and Christina was the one who was relegated to dealing with it. For her, that meant little sleep and constant headaches.

"Well hang in there. There'll be plenty of time to sleep once we get to the site." Mr. Conlee said reassuringly.

Christina mustered up a return smile as her teacher shut the door behind him. Her cousin Ben was in the next cabin over, with his burnout friends. Mr. Conlee was a little bit surprised that there wasn't any smoke billowing out from under the door, although he did catch a slight marijuana smell. He opened the door, seeing Edward Bettes sitting on the floor against the wall, strumming on a mandolin. Mr. Conlee had to smirk at the sight. Edward was told that his guitar was too big and that everyone was to bring a backpack and a duffel bag no bigger than a backpack. Edward apparently found a loophole with the smaller instrument.

"Is there any reason it smells like a Grateful Dead concert in here?" Mr. Conlee asked, almost redundantly.

Michael Farra, class pot grower and main supplier, just shrugged his shoulders. "Got me, Mr. Conlee. Maybe you're having some flashbacks from your teenage rebellion?"

"Jesus, Mike. How old do you think I am?" Conlee asked, following it with a grin. "I was always impartial to Pink Floyd."

Farra gave him the old wink and the gun gesture, as across from him, Gina Neri started giggling, and her boyfriend Esteban Jimenez gave a scowl. Esteban was probably one of the most hated people in the school, only popular because he was a big guy and a star pitcher on the baseball team. The teacher had even heard Esteban and Edward get into fights on occasion. Edward, meanwhile, began playing strumming a more high-pitched version of the intro to the Pink Floyd song 'Money'.

"I swear I'm going to break that fucking thing…" Esteban muttered under his breath. "It's bad enough that crackhead over there's been shaking the whole damn time."

Mr. Conlee looked over to see Benjamin, now asleep, but indeed shaking. This would not be an easy trip for him, going through the withdrawal. Mr. Conlee also noticed that everyone in the cabin, except for Esteban of course, had draped their coats over Ben. Conlee let out a sigh, feeling bad for the kid.

"We'll be there in about a half hour, maybe a little longer. Let me know if he needs anything." Mr. Conlee stated to the room.

"Will do." Michael Farra responded. Edward responded by playing the intro to 'Goodbye Blue Sky', another song that Conlee recognized as being Pink Floyd. It caused him to smirk again as he left the room. The next room ahead was full of kids that Mr. Conlee actually liked, which was a first. They were considered to be the class nerds, or geeks, or whatever slang the kids these days used to describe smart, scholastically successful teens. So Mr. Conlee was a little bit surprised when he looked inside to see that they were playing the card game War, and seemingly having a great time doing it. Mary Saltman looked up and jumped slightly when she saw Mr. Conlee at the door, which prompted him to open it.

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to startle you all." Mr. Conlee said.

"Hey Mr. Conlee." Douglas McTeer said, giving him a slight head nod. Anna Gwak, Patrick Kovalsky and Sarah Evans, along with Mary, filled out the rest of the cabin. They each gave their own short greetings. Mr. Conlee was relieved that there was at least one cabin where everyone seemed to be getting along and having a good time. The teacher leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest.

"So, War huh?" Mr. Conlee asked. "I didn't know kids still played that."

"It's a time consumer, Mr. C." Anna stated, looking down at her pile of cards, obviously winning. The same couldn't be said for Patrick Kovalsky, who was forced to be a spectator for the rest of the game.

"Well you'll have to wrap it up soon. Only another half hour until we get there." The teacher said.

Sarah Evans, former cheerleader, leaned forward and reached around on the ground. Within about two seconds, Doug sprang into action, almost knocking over the tray table they were playing on. He grabbed a water bottle, presenting it to Sarah, who chuckled as she took it from him. Anna rolled her eyes.

"Smooth moves, casa_never_." Anna quipped, adding emphasis to the end of her made up word.

Doug quickly turned red, backing up into his seat and looking out the window. Conlee backed up into the hallway, starting to shut the door behind him.

"See you kids in a bit." He said, closing the door.

Conlee had one more room to check, the one that was directly across from him. Approaching the window on the door, he saw that Joseph Washington and Jessica Galvin were indeed making out, to the chagrin of Emily Trendell and Hiroshi Misaki. Mr. Conlee thought of himself as a considerate sort of guy, not one to laugh at the misfortune of kids, but the scene was just too much. Emily and Hiroshi didn't have many friends in the class, or any, and he doubted they talked to each other in there. That and Emily was the tallest girl in the class, easily a good 9 inches taller than Hiroshi. It was just an odd looking scenario, and Conlee didn't think he'd get anything out of them, so he just went back into his cabin.

As soon as he stepped in and closed the door, his cell phone started to ring. Conlee walked over to grab it off of the window ledge, taking a seat as he looked at who was calling. It gave him a slight tinge of paranoia, getting the call as soon as he walked back into the room, like someone was watching him and waiting. Nevertheless, he shook the feeling and answered his phone.

"Yeah? Yeah, I just checked, they're all in the car."

Mr. Conlee scoffed at the persistence in making sure that all the kids were alright. He knew that safety was paramount on these school trips, but it was getting a little ridiculous. But Principal Black was his boss, so he had to just comply and do as he was told.

"Everybody's okay. I can't believe the surprise that's in store for them. A weekend getaway to blow off some steam before graduation is a great surprise."

The big secret about the surprise was revealed to Conlee just yesterday. The school seemed like it was putting up a decent amount of money to give these kids a weekend to remember. No parents or guardians, but there would be rangers on the island just in case of trouble. That's what Conlee was told anyways. He still couldn't believe it, but who was he to question.

"So I guess I just see…hey, I think we're slowing down."

Conlee cut his thought off as he noticed that the scenery wasn't moving by as quickly as before. Just as the teacher was getting up, he noticed that there was a funny odor in the air.

"What's that? Pineapple…?"

Mr. Conlee was unable to finish that thought, as he felt his knees quickly go weak, and the rest of his body followed suit. He crashed down onto the floor, smacking his head on the window's ledge as he did and finding himself propped up against the wall, facing the door. His eyelids grew heavy and his vision blurry, but he was able to see a couple of people walking into the car, carrying what appeared to be guns. The last thing Mr. Conlee saw before blacking out was the masks that the people were wearing.


	2. Let the Good Times Roll

"How long until the affects wear off?"

The man in the charcoal gray suit asked the nearest masked grunt, one of the half-dozen that was there to make sure nothing got too out of hand once this party officially started. Two others were standing motionless in the back, another was off to the side smoking out of an open window, and two more were currently wheeling in the rack of duffel bags for the contestants. The man in gray winced at the sound of the rack's squeaky wheels. With how much money went into one of these, he would figure that they would get expensive racks, with smooth, gliding wheels, but perhaps they were not featured in the budget.

"Any minute now." The grunt replied, watching the two that were just coming into the room.

The man in gray nodded, turning and moving behind the wooden desk he had been leaning against. He adjusted his plain black tie as he walked towards the dirty mirror against the wall. The upkeep of this place must have also been a low priority, he thought to himself while he brushed away some dust from the mirror's lower right corner. He smoothed out his dark brown hair, making sure that every strand was in its proper place. First impressions were key, even in situations where you are pretty much condemning a bunch of punk kids to their deaths. He couldn't help himself but to smile, and not only because he looked stellar, but because this was his favorite part of the program. Sure it was fun scouting the schools, and watching the stupidity of some kids as they met their demise in often hilarious ways, but this was his personal time to shine.

"These kids don't look like anything special." The head grunt that he had spoken to before quipped.

The man in gray didn't even bother to acknowledge the statement. If the grunt had been an expert on what was and wasn't special, he probably wouldn't have been an anonymous guard with a black ski mask on. Why they wore ski masks, the man in gray did not know. Maybe it was done to hide identity, making some statement that they were an army of one or some crap. He would never know, as he didn't have time to make small talk to those beneath his pay grade. He was pretty sure that it was the same group of guards each time. For sure one of them was black, and he saw a wisp of blonde hair sticking out from a mask once so there was also a blonde. That's all he really knew though.

The people that he had gotten to know, over the past eight months, were sitting fast asleep in the classroom. This school year he was Geoffrey Black, principal at the majorly middle-class populated Ellenville High School. He'd always been allowed to pick his own names for the assignments, and his pattern wound up usually being a play on words with basic colors. One year he was Orestes Ainge, which nobody else in the department picked up on. This year, however, he decided to just go with basic black. It was his tenth year on the job, and as he began to walk up the first aisle closest to the windows, he started thinking about all the classes he met up until this point. He smiled to himself, thinking how he saw the more promise in this group than he had in quite a few years. There wasn't as much of a history of violence like one or two of the inner city groups that he had done before, but it was always interesting to see that explosive potential unleashed for the first time. It was unpredictable, and it made for a good game. He touched the left shoulder of one of the boys he passed, a contemptible kid who only looked out for himself. He was one of the more popular people in his class. A few seats behind him, a girl who desperately wanted to succeed and get away from home. As Mr. Black rounded the corner, he saw two familiar faces that had previously been in this situation. They would add some spice to the game for sure.

Suddenly, one of the students shot up from their desk, causing Mr. Black to take a quick step back. He then let out a chuckle at how ridiculous he must have looked. He calmly walked past Hiroshi Misaki, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed by.

"It's okay, Hiroshi. It's just me, your humble principal." Mr. Black said with a smile, as he turned and started to see that some of the other students were beginning to stir as well.

"Sir?" Hiroshi started, looking around the room to see most of his classmates with their heads down on their desks. Black followed the student's eyes, getting a little kick out of Hiroshi's reaction upon seeing the masked men holding the automatic weapons. Hiroshi shrunk down in his seat a bit, looking down and starting to breathe a bit heavier.

"What…what the fuck?" Esteban Jimenez exclaimed, getting up from his seat. He didn't take more than one step before two of the guards stepped forward and drew their weapons. This got the rest of the class' attention.

There were an amusing variety of reactions. Linda Ramsey looked all around the room, saying 'where are we?' over and over again, while Mary Saltman began crying and telling herself that 'this isn't happening'. Lawrence Kieffer tried to get up but his foot got caught on one of the desk legs, causing him to tip over with the desk. And Benjamin Shaw was still going through enough of a withdrawal that he didn't seem able to muster up any kind of emotion.

"Mr. Black, I demand to know what's going on!" Chris Olson exclaimed.

"You demand?" Black responded with a laugh. He turned to the guard he had talked to before, motioning over to Olson. "Did you hear that? He demands!"

Black pounded his fist on the desk to add emphasis to the repeated statement, which caused about half the class to nearly jump out of their seats. Black took a few steps forward, holding out his hand, palm straight and shaking his head back and forth.

"Don't be alarmed, kids. Don't be alarmed." Black started. "You see kids, you all have the opportunity and the fortune to actually make your mark on this world…to really separate yourself from the pack."

Mr. Black took a moment to close his eyes. He reveled in this moment. With his next words, he would provide some inspiration for those who were ready and willing to do whatever necessary to survive and win, and he would also become the proverbial boogeyman for those who were too weak. He opened his eyes to see that he had the attention of most of the class, save for a few of the girls who were busy comforting the sobbing Brittany Linton in the back.

"Excuse me girls, excuse me." Mr. Black said, walking forward a few steps to try and get their attention. "If you could just, maybe have her stop for a few moments so I can…"

Before Mr. Black could get another word out, Victor Lombardo lunged up from his chair and drove Mr. Black to the ground with a perfect tackle. The rest of the class simultaneously stood up as Mr. Black hit the ground with a thud, and Victor balled up his fist. Before he could hit the punch, two of the guards grabbed him by his arms and hauled him off of the so-called principal. Cesar Zamudio and Michael Massena, two of Victor's jock friends got up to help him, but they were quickly cut-off, courtesy of a couple of guns pointed at their faces. Black rose to his feet, brushing himself off a bit. He adjusted his suit and made sure that there wasn't a hair out of place while the guards struggled to keep the strong teenager under control. The rest of the grunts were making sure that nobody else thought to get up by playing the role of police and yelling at everyone to freeze. Mr. Black let out a sigh while slowly approaching Victor Lombardo, who was still trying to free himself. All Mr. Black could do was clap, and it confused Victor enough to finally make him stop.

"Good!" Mr. Black exclaimed, letting out a quick laugh while nodding his head. "That's what I'm talking about! That's exactly what I wanted to see, well done, Mr. Lombardo."

Black extended his hand, and in one swift motion, brought the back of it across Lombardo's face. A few of the girls in the class screamed and cried out, as Victor's face whipped to the left, eyes looking to the ground. Victor raised his head and looked back at his principal with a scowl, but was quickly taken back to his seat by the two guards, who forced him down onto the chair. One of the guards remained there, keeping his gun drawn so that the barrel was only a few inches away from Victor's head. Mr. Black walked back over to the front of the desk, clasping his hands together and giving the class the same grin that they'd been used to whenever one came to see him in his office.

"Now that we've gotten that out of our system, let's all just collect ourselves. Breathe, children."

Principal Black took an exaggerated deep breath in, and let it out, gesturing along with his hands. All he got in return from the classroom of teenagers was blank stares. It caused Black to sigh. He headed around the desk, taking off his jacket one arm at a time and placing it on the back of the wooden chair.

"You kids these days," Mr. Black started as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, "just don't know how to have fun with something."

"We've got guns in our faces!" Esteban Jimenez shouted.

"I swear to God, when my father hears about this…" Chris Olson stated.

"Your father?" Mr. Black exclaimed, looking up to Chris. He couldn't help himself but laugh. "What exactly is your father going to do about this, Mr. Olson? You know what, just hit him in the face with your gun." Black ordered the guy in the mask nearest to Olson. Before the kid could react, the masked guard smacked him in the nose with the butt of his automatic weapon. Most of the class winced collectively, a few of the girls shrieked as Olson let out a cry, cupping his nose with both of his hands.

"My fucking nose!" Chris Olson exclaimed, the pitch in his voice lowering enough for one to tell that his nose was broken. It also helped that it started gushing blood through the cracks in his fingers.

Black began to rummage through a desk drawer, coming up with a small, floral patterned box of tissues. From his spot, he patted the box with his other hand and threw it like a football towards Chris Olson. Olson was slow to react though, reaching out for the box too late as it slipped through his hands and smacked him on his newly broken nose. He cried out again as he cupped his nose to prevent more blood from spilling onto the desk he was at. Black couldn't help himself but laugh a little bit at what he'd just done.

"You know I couldn't do that again if I tried. I mean, apologies to you Chris, but that was pretty funny." Mr. Black said, snickering again as Chris shot him an evil look. He probably wasn't the only child here who wanted to kill the man they'd known as their principal last year. Black knew that, and he hoped that it would add some fire, and maybe these kids would put on the show that he knew they were capable of.

"Anyways, let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Black asked them, noticing that for the most part, the kids had quieted down. He motioned to the tissue box as one of the guards stepped forward and grabbed it. "I'll have this gentleman pass the box around in case any of you still have the need to shed some tears. I understand the kind of emotional roller coaster that you're experiencing right now."

A hand from the back of the room shot up to Black's surprise. He recognized that it belonged to Margaret Pasizt, and with a shrug he motioned to her.

"Miss Pasizt, go ahead."

"Who are they?" Margaret asked, pointing to the guy and the girl that were seated farthest in the back. Everyone else in the class turned their heads at the question, and began murmuring amongst themselves when they didn't recognize the two. The girl had extremely pale skin, with jet black hair and was small in stature. Unlike the rest of the class though, she was unsettlingly calm, just like the guy who was next to her. He looked like he might have been in his early twenties, sporting almost a full beard that was as scraggily as his light brown hair. He hunched over the desk, almost looking bored. Black could only smile and give Margaret a slight nod.

"Thank you, Margaret. You've gotten us right back on track." Black replied.

A few of the kids kept their eyes on the two in the back, who didn't respond in any way other than the occasional empty glance. Black snapped his fingers and the projection screen started to drop down in front of the blackboard. The students were surprised by this fingersnap trigger that the screen seemed to have. If the students were paying attention, however, they would have seen that one of the guards in the back room had flipped a wall switch, and the screen coming down wasn't the result of some kind of witchcraft that Black possessed. A projector was brought into the room and set up in the back of the middle aisle as the guard who activated the screen also shut off the lights. The machine in the middle of the room whirred to life, as a white background shone against the projector screen, with the words "Battle Royale Act" in black, scripted letters.

"I hope you all enjoy this. I'm not very good with power point." Black remarked. "Students, I welcome you to the Battle Royale Act, or just simply the Battle Royale for short."

Black motioned to the back of the room as the guard by the projector pressed a button, and the slide changed. The next one had more writing a picture of a map that took up half of the screen.

"The Battle Royale Act first started about seventy years ago, in what was formerly called the Republic of Greater East Asia, which encompassed, well, a lot of the region." Black stated with a hint of uncertainty. History was never a strong subject for him. "As you all know, the Republic broke down and the regions reverted back to their former names about six years ago. So for all intents and purposes, the act originates from modern day Japan. Next slide, please."

The guard did as he was told, and the next slide was played, this one with more writing in the form of bullet points.

"Now, as you can see from the first bullet point, the Battle Royale Act is indeed active in over twenty countries. I stress this because I don't want you all to have this whole, woe is me, mentality. Thousands of young adults have been in your position over the decades. The second bullet point is prestige, and when I say prestige, I'm not only talking about the prestige of winning, but of participating too. Every one of your families will receive small compensation for whatever hardship may occur as a result of the program. And for the third bullet point, winning is everything."

Black pointed directly underneath the phrase and paused. He gave everybody in the room a quick look over.

"Winning this three day program will set you up for life. Whether you want to go to medical school, join the military, or simply stay home and play video games all day, you will have the means to do so. This might be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do. The program recognizes that, and it will reward you greatly upon completion."

A hand shot up amidst the students, and Black acknowledged it.

"Yes, Mr. McTeer?"

Douglas McTeer, one of the big brains in the class, started to stand up, but one look at the guard nearest halted him. He just sat back down.

"Sir…you haven't told us what we have to do." McTeer stated in a wavering voice.

The rest of the class perked up at the comment, as their principal merely smiled again. He motioned to the guard at the projector and the next slide popped up. The words on the screen caused a ripple of panic through the classroom, with some cries of disbelief, and some plain old crying. The words were written in plain black lettering and capitalized for emphasis. 'OBJECTIVE - THE LAST STUDENT ALIVE WINS.'

"You can't do this!" Linda Ramsey cried out.

"No, no, no…" Steven Robson repeated to himself as he shook his head.

"Why are you doing this to us?" Vanessa Grant asked, pleading with her principal as her boyfriend Michael Massena gripped her hand.

Black scoffed at her question, pointing to himself. "Me? This has nothing to do with me. I'm an employee of the United States government!"

Black stated, pounding his fist on the desk which caused more than a few of the classmates to jump in their seats. The government employee and former acting principal let out a sigh, taking a moment to recompose himself.

"Apologies, but I didn't like the direction of that accusation." Black said, clearing his throat. "I can, however, understand and appreciate your ill will towards me. After all, I was sent to scout schools in the region and settled upon yours, having seen some truly remarkable potential amongst this group. I mean there are some of the smartest and strongest students here that I've seen in all my years. And just in case I'm wrong, we've taken the liberty of adding two veterans of the program in the class, which would be the two in the back that Margaret brought up."

Once again, most of the heads in the class turned, now looking at the guy and girl with a little more apprehension and fear than they did before. The guy locked eyes with Mary Saltman, shooting her a wink which caused her to quickly turn around.

"Regardless of who brought you here and why you're here, you're here," Black added, resting his hands on the desk and leaning forward, "so you might as well make the best of it. Remember, your families will be compensated. If you want to be weak and commit suicide, they'll still be compensated. There's usually a few of you in the bunch that'll do that. Even cowardice gets rewarded in this game."

Black motions towards the back and the next slide pops up. This one has more bullet points, but most are jammed together and small in text size, making it hard to read from the students' point of view.

"The full rules are as followed: you have seventy-two hours, from the time the last student leaves the room, to survive by any means necessary. In order to do this, you will most likely be forced to kill. Only two people in the entire history of the game won without actually killing anyone, and we've since taken measures to prevent this from happening again. We have also taken measures to make sure that nobody sits in the same spot for the entire length of the game. Have any of you noticed that your lower back has been itchy?"  
>This statement caused a commotion amongst the students, most of whom were too concerned with their current surroundings to notice. Most of them tried to jerk their heads around to look at their lower back as if it were possible.<p>

"In a surprisingly simple and quick operation, there has been a little microchip inserted somewhere along your spine. I don't know what it's connected to, but I have seen the results, and I can tell you that once activated, it sets off a little spark that effectively shuts down your nervous system within seconds, rendering you very dead. Like I said, I've seen it, and the faces that some people make as it happens are kinda cool." Black said with a quick chuckle, his eyes looking towards the ceiling as if he was picturing it in his head. When looking back down, he found that none of the students seemed to share in his sense of humor, save for the previous male Battle Royale winner in the back, who gave a grin. It was unsettling to Black, who dropped the smile and continued. "Anyhoo, the chip is there to make sure you don't just squat for three days. It is remote controlled and has a GPS system so we track your movements. And speaking of GPS…"

Black motioned towards the back of the room. The projector shuts down and the lights go back on, as the soldier who had been operating it takes it out the back door of the room. Two more soldiers step forward, bringing up a large, rolled up piece of paper. They prop it up over the blackboard, and it turns out be a large map of an island.

"This, of course, is a map of the island we're on. It's about thirteen square miles, and for the purpose of the program, has a grid system. A through H, numbers one through eight as you can see. Throughout the game, there will be announcements every four hours, to update on which of your classmates have died, but also to announce the hot zones. On the first day, there will be two hot zones activated every four hours, on the second day, three hot zones every four hours, and on the final day, four hot zones every four hours. They will be scattered throughout the map to eventually close off all but the center of the island, essentially forcing you and your classmates together. On this map, we're near the bottom right hand corner, right on the beach area that stretches across the south. There are hills and treacherous terrain in the northwest, a small village in the center of the island off the road that runs north and south across the island, and a small industrial park on the east side. This used to be a military training ground, so you can imagine what kind of toys you might find out there."  
>Black said the last part with a smirk, knowing full well that there was not much else out there in the way of weaponry, except for a cache that the teens probably wouldn't be able to find. He knew where it was, however, and was going to use that knowledge to make things interesting. The two soldiers who put up the map removed it, and Black then turned to the rack of bags.<p>

"These bags contain all of your possessions you came with, plus a pocket-sized version of the map you just saw, a compass, three water bottles and a special surprise weapon. It could be a gun, it could be a knife…or it could be a pack of inflatable balloons. Who knows what you'll get, but I'm sure that the results will be interesting. Ready?" Black asked the class.

Suddenly, a burst of laughter was heard from the back of the room. Everyone turned to see that Lawrence Kieffer was the source. Lawrence's classmates looked at him curiously as he addresses them.

"Don't you get it? This is a big joke! I mean, come on, where's Mr. Conlee anyways?" Kieffer asked, turning to Black.

Black nodded his head a few times before placing his index and thumb to his lips, giving a whistle. One of the guards in the back of the room walked towards Lawrence, thrusting a burlap bag against his chest. Lawrence got knocked back a bit by the force, but caught in nonetheless. He opened up, looked inside for a second before he turned his head and vomited off to the side, dropping the bag into one of the aisles. Out rolled the decapitated head of their former science teacher, which prompted everyone to get up and scatter in a panic. The guards restrained a few students, threatening them at gunpoint and getting them all back down in their seats. One of the students, however, didn't sit back down.

"Miss Gerhardt, I believe the men with the guns would like you to sit down." Black said to Erin Gerhardt, who stood there frozen.

Erin turned around, looking towards her teacher. One of her friends, Christina Shaw, reached up to pull her down but Erin actually walked a few steps towards the teacher. Two of the guards surrounded the girl with their guns drawn.

"I'm not going to take a part of this." Erin stated with a surprising amount of conviction.

Most of the class was silent, with the exception of a few of Erin's friends who were trying to tell her to come back. Black raised his hand up, making a fist.

"Quiet, girls!" Black shouted, which worked as the girls quickly shut up. Black turned his attention back to Erin. "Erin, you know that the game hasn't started yet and your family will get nothing, right?"

Erin seemed to think about it, turning around to her friends who silently pleaded with her to sit down. Erin just smiled, before turning back towards Black.

"My family will be proud that I didn't participate, they don't need anything else." Erin responded.

"I admire that Erin." Black stated, nodding his head. The teacher let out a sigh before reaching into his right pocket. He took out a small device with a few buttons on it, pointing it at Erin as the girl tightened up. The rest of the class waited with baited breath, most of them looking on like a bad car accident was about to happen. Black finally shook his head, putting the remote control back in his pocket.

"Sorry. Just don't have it in me to do that to you." Black stated.

Erin smiled in relief, but her relief was short lived. One of the guards that was next to her stepped forward, holstering their rifle and pulling out a handgun. He promptly put the gun to the side of her head and pulled the trigger. The students collectively jumped up at the loud bang that followed. Blood splattered on a few of the students as Erin fell over sideways, landing in Selina Ruiz's lap, who pushed her off with a scream. Despite pushing her off, Selina knelt next to her friends, as Christina Shaw also knelt down and was crying over her dead friend. Everyone else in the class grew silent, as Black cracked his neck to the side while walking around to the back of the desk.

"Alright, one down, now there are forty-three left. So, I hope I've made the rules clear because I'm going to begin reading the roll. When I call you, walk up here and take the bag you are given. I wish you all good luck, and as they say down in Louisiana, 'laissez les bon temps roulez,' or let the good times roll. First up…Girl number one, Lisa Arcuri!"


End file.
